Espuma De Chocolate
by mrivera13
Summary: An homage to my hispanic heritage and to Mr. Eric Northman ; FirstFF story, please be kind, but I'm open to all constructive critism. What ifthat famous psychic that Eric had a long time ago, had another gift? Rated Mfor future chapters. OC/ES
1. Chapter 1

Lulu had been scrubbing at the stain for over twenty minutes and it still refused to budge. As she sat back on her haunches she wondered for the millionth time what possessed her to get beige carpeting with a three year old running around with grape juice boxes.

"It'll have to do" she said finally giving up and dropping the brush in the bowl full of warm sudsy water. She pushed the edges of her dark bob haircut behind her ears and closed her eyes.

The sounds of her small home soothed her nerves momentarily. She had just finished loading the dishwasher and it now swished happily with a full load of dishes as the cool autumn wind swirled the leaves outside and made them crunch against the concrete sidewalks. She stood up and walked down her dark hall to sneak a peek at her slumbering daughter. Sol was covered warmly with her favorite blanket and that silly threadbare dog tucked under her arm. Her little lips made that perfect Cupid's bow and her soft brown skin glowed lightly in the moonlight shining through her window. Her long light eyelashes made gentle shadows on top of her pink cheeks. It always amazed her how her little demon looked like a perfect angel in her sleep.

She walked up the hallway picking up a toy here and there. Her living room was littered with bright colored blocks, small animal figures and chunky wooden dollhouse furniture. As she picked up the before bed warzone, her body warmed with the warning of his impending arrival. She wrung her hands; she couldn't believe she was nervous. The knock resounded in the walls of her living room. She walked toward the door; took a deep breath and opened it.

There he stood, a six foot something blonde vamp in the Barrio. She giggled at her thought. He raised his eyebrow and looked at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, don't mind me, please come in" she invited him and moved aside.

"You received my message?" Speaking in that tone that made her feel mentally deficient.

"Of course, otherwise I'd be in bed watching something without muppets. What do you want Eric?" She asked exasperated. He always had a way of bringing out the worst in her and she hated it.

"Que diría tu Abuela de tu comportamiento con un huésped?" He spoke her native tongue with that little lilt that drove her to perdition a long time ago.

Her Abuela's lessons did not go to waste as the guilt gnawed at her insides and made her walk to the kitchen and heat one of the True Blood's she picked up earlier at the latin grocery store while the "metiche" girl at the register stared at her. She pulled it out of the microwave, shook it and handed it to him brusquely while glaring at him.

"Don't bring her up; don't speak to me in Spanish and if you call me Maria Luisa I will not be responsible for my own actions. What. Do. You. Want. Eric?" She asked for the second time that night, she had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

He removed his jacket and sat down in one of the old couches. The couch seemed to complain by the weight as Eric shifted uncomfortably on it. He took a long drink and an unnecessary breath. "Your hair is too short." He stated as if with that sentence she should automatically grow hair.

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, Eric." She was tired and she really didn't want to drudge up the past. It took too much out of her.

"Have the scars on your legs and back healed?" He asked, almost as if he asked if it was cold outside.

"Eric, I don't want to talk about this, please" Maybe manners will change the subject.

"I have seen her"

"Who?" She rolled her eyes and sighed. Eric the all knowing was about to say something deep that would get her into a world of trouble.

"Your vision." She dropped on the ottoman at his feet shocked by the sentence.

"Really? Are you sure?" She asked wanting to be happy, but the sad kept creeping in her voice.

"Yes, but I have come for other matters." He stood and lifted her by the hand from the ottoman. "How is Solveig?"

She pulled her hand away from him, missing the coolness of his touch. She reached over and took the now empty bottle from his other hand to rinse it in the kitchen. As the water poured in the bottle; she emptied it and watched the red water swirl down her cobalt blue sink.

"She's fine. She's started Kindergarten and loves it. Her teacher has called me in twice for her behavior. She's such a strong willed child. She has a stubborn streak from here to Mexico, but she's kind and gentle. She's very smart and has learned quite a bit in school. I think she will have a talent for languages. Her Spanish is strong, but now I'm afraid of her losing it because of school. She loves animals and….." She realized suddenly that she was going on and on. She had a tendency of overwhelming a conversation with too many words. Abuela always said a lady spoke only the necessary words to answer a question. She stopped mid sentence and waved her hand at Eric. "Sorry I have a tendency to go on about her. I'm very proud."

"Why shouldn't you be? She is her father's daughter."

She rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel the Eric induced headache coming on.

"Well, aren't you the proud papa" She said bitterly.

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**I apologize for all the moving around, but I haven't quite figured out the publishing feature. Thank you for your patience. Please be advised that this story will go back and forth between the present and the past. The past will always be in Italics. Please let me know what you think. I'd really love some feedback on how I'm doing. Thank you for taking the time to reading my little story.**


	2. Chapter 2

_She walked up the narrow stone steps carefully placing her foot just so. The fall would be a hard one and she had to be completely unblemished in order to go through with this ritual. It was her duty. The words kept knocking in her head as she took a calming breath. It was her duty as the eldest daughter of one the major chiefs. She was to be given to the Immortal as a gift. She should be proud and honored that she was so special, but the fear dampened all the emotions that she was told to feel. _

_She would be whatever the Immortal wanted or needed. She took another breath. Father was right getting an education was a stupid thing to do, maybe if she was ignorant of the world that surrounded this little patch of wilderness she wouldn't feel so used. Her family was using her, her people were using her. Plain and simple the Immortal would give his "essence" to the healer of the pueblo in exchange for a virgin. _

_She remembered when her father asked her the question with an insult attached to it. "Did you let an unworthy touch you like all the other whores that have left the light?" At first she had no idea what he meant and he actually had the healer look at her. She thought she'd die from embarrassment. If she had only known that would be the easiest part of this journey. _

_The plaque had killed many people, including her Abuela. That's what she should think about, the people she was saving. The little ones who would not suffer the slow painful death that made the ones afflicted cry in agony through the night._

_She stood at the mouth of the cave trying to get enough courage to walk across the carved threshold that read in the old tongue "Here is our savior and blessing: The Immortal". One last breath and she stepped in. The gauzy white cotton dress tied with a simple leather belt was small protection against the cold that hit her from the cave. She untied her long braid and let her long, black, wavy hair cascade down her back to get some warmth. Vanity was a sin her Abuela always told her, but her hair was lovely and she took pride in it. _

_She took the small pouch that held the flint stone, red clay pitcher of milk and the chocolate. She made small fire and started boiling the milk to melt the rich chocolate. One of the things she missed most about her Abuela was her chocolate. She took a small piece of the long brown roll just to smell it. The hint of cinnamon and chili peppers was a reminder of her Abuela. She let one small tear roll down her cheek. If she was still alive her father would've never gotten away with this. _

_She never understood the hate her father had towards her. She was different, but she could not control the visions, they just came. Her Abuela and mother tried everything. She was sent from healer to healer even to some witches, but none helped. The witches actually said it was a gift and that she was a blessed child. Her father tortured her with words and then with actions. When the priest of a nearby city offered her a job and some education she ran at the chance, but the plaque and her Abuela's illness brought her back and as the chief's daughter she had to obey the words of her father. _

_The milk sizzled as it overflowed from the red clay pot into the fire and brought her back from her thoughts. She very carefully took the cloth pouch and lifted the pot to drop in pieces of chocolate and beat it with her Abuela's wooden batidor. _

_She had to finish the chore soon the birds were already announcing the impending nightfall and the chocolate had to be drunk before The Immortal awoke. _

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So what did you think? Needs more work? My grammar sucks, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to edit as best I can while I work out the quirks of FF. Thanks for your patience


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